


and one morning, the wind turns

by courageous_boss



Category: Alphas (TV)
Genre: Brief Religious Discussion, Canon Autistic Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25412749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courageous_boss/pseuds/courageous_boss
Summary: Gary, after the events at Grand Central Station.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	and one morning, the wind turns

Gary awoke, as usual, to the cherry tune he'd set as his alarm.

He'd liked it once. 

It had been one of those songs his mom had played for him as a kid. He'd repeated the lyrics to her, and she'd grinned at him like it was the greatest thing she'd ever heard.

She was silly like that sometimes.

Now, Gary didn't really like the song all that much anymore. He'd heard it so many times that it was annoying. But that made it better at being an alarm, so he didn't see the point in changing it.

The song played to completion and Gary clicked it off before it could repeat.

He didn't really like waking up so early in the morning, but he had to.

It was 5:28 AM.

He let himself be a little lazy. It was okay to be lazy in the morning. 

He took a shower, dried himself and got dressed. It was easier to get dressed in his new apartment. Here, he only had two pairs of jeans and three t-shirts. He didn't have to take long to pick something to wear.

He grabbed his backpack and rifled through the pockets, checking and rechecking that he had his pass. He'd forgotten it once and he hadn't been allowed to keep to his schedule and do what he wanted. He wouldn't forget it again.

Backpack on, he pulled his huge, heavy coat over his shoulders. It wasn't really his coat. It was Bill's. But Gary had stolen off the hook in his office and hadn't put it back. Enough time had passed since that Gary was sure it was his coat now.

He turned off the lights, unplugged his lamp, checked that the window was properly shut and then left. Of course, he made sure to lock his door, twisting it three times.

Then, he set off on his morning walk. He'd prefer to take a taxi, but most of the taxis didn't pick him up. One had even stuck his picture up on the dashboard with his owed balance scrawled across it. Gary thought that that was funny.

The walk took twenty-three minutes and his stomach grumbled all the way. It was too early to eat, though. 

He wind was cold and biting against his face and he hated it. He'd much rather be asleep in bed, but this was the only time he was allowed to use the football field.

He walked up to the guard booth and waited patiently for the man to notice him.

He was a nice man with sleepy eyes. “Good morning, Gary.”

Gary's mom had taught him how to be polite, so he said, “Good morning.”

But it was not a good morning. Mornings were never good so early.

He gave the guard his pass and waited as the man wrote down his ID number in the logbook.

“Here you go,” the guard said, giving him back his pass.

Garry nodded, still polite, “Um, thank you.”

The guard smiled and nodded before waving him off.

Gary followed the path to the field, careful not to scuff his shoes on the stones.

The grass was always cut low and the lights were on to their low setting. Gary hadn't seen very many football fields, but he thought that this one was pretty great. The teams that practised here were lucky.

Gary shrugged off his coat, folded it and placed it on the bench. He put his pass back into his backpack and set it down next to his coat. The cool breeze caused him to shiver and his arms covered in Goosebumps. 

Goosebumps was an interesting word.

He walked out into the centre of the field.

He was all alone.

He could see the sun starting to peek over the horizon, pinkening the sky.

It was 6:14 AM.

He threw his head back and screamed.

* * *

At 7 AM, the cleaning crew would come in. Gary would spread out on the bench, backpack as his pillow and coat as his blanket. His coat wasn't long enough to cover him completely, but the part of him it did was warm.

One of the cleaners, Mr. Screw, would frown and grumble.

He'd called Gary a 'stinking millennial' once which was only partly true. Gary did not smell.

Another cleaner, Miss Mary, would clean from the furthest side of the field so that he'd have as much time undisturbed as possible. She was nice and had silvery hair like Dr. Rosen and dark skin and gentle eyes. Gary liked her.

At 7:42 AM (she'd asked him what time he'd like and he'd told her and she'd nodded very seriously and agreed), she'd place a hand on his shin and squeeze. She'd be the first person to touch him for the day, and she'd be the last.

Today, like always, she asked, “How are you today, Gary?”

She was leaning heavily in on herself. She was always tired and always working.

Gary shifted up, moving his legs so she'd have room to sit. She sat and grabbed at his legs, pulling them to rest on her lap. Gary didn't like it when she did that. It was uncomfortable and he was sure his legs were heavy. But she liked to do it and she said it made her happy. It was the least Gary could do.

He left his legs on her lap and cleared his throat. His throat always hurt after screaming but the hurt was good. The burning was better than the sharp, heavy sadness in his belly.

“I'm still sad,” he said honestly. “My throat hurts and I miss my mom and Bill and Dr. Rosen and the team. And Anna. I still miss Anna.”

Miss Mary nodded, “It'll get better one day, Gary. Just keep working on it.”

“And, um, how are you, Miss Mary?” Gary asked.

She hummed, “I'm still going. That's all you can ask for at my age.”

Which wasn't an answer to his question.

“No, Miss Mary. I meant how are you doing? Like, are you okay? Or, how are you feeling?” Gary clarified.

She laughed, but not at him. She never laughed at him.

“I'm doing good, Gary. I found this new blend of tea at the grocery last night. I had some this morning and it was very good.”

“I like tea,” Gary said.

She smiled at him, “I'll bring you some tomorrow.”

“Oh, that's okay. You should keep it if you like it. Don't give it to me. It won't last as long.”

Her smile was different now, “I want to share it with you. It might help your throat and I can always buy more.”

He didn't want to talk about tea anymore. Miss Mary didn't push him.

Instead, she asked, “What's the plan for today?”

“Um, I have to go to work. My boss will make me sign the book and the time which is stupid because it's always the same. Does she think I'll change my name? That's dumb.”

Miss Mary laughed, “What's next?”

“Then I'll go to the kitchen and eat breakfast. Sherry might sit with me. She does that sometimes. She doesn't talk to me though. Which is good; I don't like talking when I'm eating. When I'm finished, I'll clean up my mess and then start my job. I get a break to eat lunch and then I do my job until I have to stop at 4:35 PM. Then I go home. I stare at the wall and try not to think too much. Or remember. Remembering makes my stomach hurt so I don't like to do that. At 9:07 PM, I go to sleep. And that's it. Do you want to hear more?”

“No, Gary. That's enough,” Miss Mary said and then she was quiet.

Gary was quiet too, which wasn't good because he started to remember.

“Well, I, um, I should go. I don't want to be late for work,” he said, standing quickly and putting on his backpack and his coat.

Miss Mary stood with him. She fixed his collar like his mom and Nina used to do.

“You have a good day, Gary,” she instructed.

Gary grabbed her hand and squeezed it softly. He moved it away from his collar.

“I'm already having a good day.”

* * *

The library was great. It was kind of cold, but he had his coat, so it was okay.

Sherry had told him that he didn't actually have to work all day, so Gary liked to pick a new book every day. He learned a lot. Like how to sneak around his boss and how to hide his favourite books so no one else could take them.

“I'm going to get a snack,” Sherry interrupted his reading. “Do you want anything?”

Gary frowned. It was rude to interrupt someone who was reading in a library. And it wasn't time for a snack. Sherry was dumb.

Gary told her as much and she rolled her eyes, which was rude.

“Your mouth will get you into trouble one day,” she warned.

“Leave me alone, Sherry. I'm trying to read,” Gary said, irritated.

Sherry let him and he settled back into his peace.

He didn't mind this new life. It was lonely and quiet and slow. But that was because everyone was gone. They were all gone and Gary was all alone. It was okay, though. Because one day soon, he'd scream loud enough and long enough that someone would find him and save him.

And he'd get to go to work again.

* * *

Sunday was special because Gary did something different. Instead of going to the football field, he'd walk to the big church in the city. The walk was longer, but it didn't matter. Not on Sundays.

The church was packed on a Sunday and people gave him bread and juice. They'd pray and he'd pretend to pray and then have the snack as a reward. He didn't like the bread, but the juice was good.

After a very long talk from the pastor, Gary would be allowed to grab as many candles as he liked. He'd lay them out in a neat line right in the middle of the rest. He'd light them and then watch the wax drip down. It took a while, but he'd stand there until all his candles were burned down and he'd remember.

He'd remember all of the people and all of the places. It was important to remember. He didn't want to forget. He just wanted the hurt to go away.

The hurt didn't seem to want to go away, though.

Today, the pastor stood at his side and watched him as he watched the candles.

“Those are a lot of candles,” the pastor said.

Gary glanced at him.

“You've lost a lot of people?” The pastor asked.

Gary huffed. Couldn't the man see he was busy?

But it was rude to ignore people and it was probably extra rude to ignore a pastor in his own church.

“My people, I lost them in New York,” Gary said and hoped it would be enough.

The pastor took a deep breath, “I'm so sorry for your loss.”

Gary was sorry too.

The pastor grabbed two candles and placed them far from Gary's. He lit them and took a step back.

“My mom,” the pastor explained, even though Gary hadn't asked him, “and for the people you've lost.”

Gary turned to look at him, startled and confused. “What?”

“Sometimes it helps to not have to be sad alone,” the pastor said.

Then, he stood at Gary's side. Together, they watched as each candle finished burning.

* * *

Monday morning, Gary was up at half-past five, showered, dressed and out of the apartment on time. He walked to the football field, gave the guard his pass, walked down the path, took his coat off and walked out to the centre of the field.

He screamed and screamed and screamed.

It hurt.

The cleaning crew came in and Mr. Screw frowned at him. Gary frowned back.

He laid out on the bench and waited for Miss Mary.

He tried some of her tea. It was good. It smelled like the one his mother used to drink.

He told Miss Mary his schedule. He also told her about the pastor.

“I haven’t been to church in a long time,” she said. “Maybe I should go with you one day. I could light a candle for your people too.”

Gary nodded. Maybe.

“Gary? Can I ask you about your people?” she asked, very, very carefully.

Gary didn’t like the strange way her face twisted.

He looked away, thrumming his fingers against the thermos.

“My people?”

“The ones you lost. The ones you scream for,” she said.

Gary swallowed. He didn’t like talking about them. He didn’t like remembering them. It wasn’t Sunday.

Miss Mary was good, though. Gary didn’t want to make her upset.

“They died. Anna first. She got shot even though she didn’t hurt anyone,” Gary told her.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? It wasn’t your fault. It was the government,” Gary snapped.

Miss Mary nodded, “Yes. The government does bad things sometimes.”

“My mom had a stroke. And then another stroke. She took a while to wake up and when she did, she didn’t do anything. The doctors said that her brain was damaged. I’m supposed to be taking care of her, but I ran away,” Gary admitted.

He closed his eyes, smelling the tea. His mother would be so disappointed in him.

“Dr. Rosen got shot too. He was bleeding a lot. I called the team for help and when they came, they all got zapped. Everyone at the station. They all got zapped and died. Everyone but me,” Gary said.

Miss Mary pressed her hand against his knee and when he looked, her eyes were teary.

“You were there in New York?” She asked, voice as soft as a whisper.

“I want back to the office, took my stuff and left. I also took Bill’s coat. I ran away and now I’m all alone.”

* * *

Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday passed the same as they usually did. 

Gary was bored and tired. He missed his job. He missed his man cave. He missed his pudding and his sandwiches. 

* * *

Friday, he screamed longer than usual because the cleaning crew didn't come in on time. 

His throat hurt and he wanted to stop. But he’d never stopped before the cleaning crew came in. He’d left a lot of his schedule behind in New York. But he'd kept the screaming.

(He’d never stop screaming.)

At 7:15 AM, Mr. Screw came through the gates, frowning as usual. 

He wasn't wearing his usual overalls and instead of starting his work, he took a seat on the bench and studied his watch. 

Gary screamed until his own watch read 7:21 AM and then finally stopped screaming. 

“You're on my bench,” he told Mr. Screw. 

Mr. Screw’s ugly, unkempt moustache bobbed as he spoke, “It's not your bench, kid.”

Gary was not a kid. He huffed and grumbled.

“Hey, I'm just messing. Don't freak on me,” Mr. Screw said, taking a few moments to stand.

Gary grabbed for his coat and held it up against his chest. 

This was wrong. 

“Your Miss Mary’s out with the flu today. She sent me in her place,” Mr. Screw said.

“Well, you're doing it wrong,” Gary told him, frown firmly in place. “Miss Mary cleans at this time.”

Mr. Screw smiled and Gary was almost one hundred percent sure that he was the joke.

“There's no cleaning today, kid. The bosses gave us all the day off. Mary wanted me to make sure you got on with your day properly.”

And, this was so wrong. 

There was a deep, sharp itch lancing through Gary’s forearms. He itched, felt Mr. Screw’s eyes on his fingers, and itched harder.

“What are you supposed to be doing now, then?” Mr. Screw asked.

It didn't matter. Nothing that Gary wanted mattered. 

No one cared. Not anymore and maybe never again.

He regretted getting out of bed. 

What was the point of talking when his throat burned when he swallowed?

What was the point of screaming when the hurt refused to go away?

What was the point of telling Miss Mary his schedule if she was just going to skip it?

“Kid? Are you okay?”

Gary grabbed his backpack and shouldered past Mr. Screw. There was plenty of room to pass, but Gary was angry. 

“Kid! Come on, I'm supposed to make sure you're safe,” Mr. Screw chased after him.

Gary ignored him, stomping down the path. 

He had no idea what to do with all the unused time in his morning, now. 

He’d probably end up waiting outside the library until they let him in. 

Mr. Screw followed him two blocks until he bent over and huffed, “Where are you going?”

Gary tutted impatiently, “The library. And, you should know that you're still doing it wrong. Miss Mary doesn't walk me to work. I walk myself. You should leave.”

“Jeez, kid,” Mr. Screw fired back. “I'm just trying to help.”

“You're not good at helping,” Gary said. 

He remembered something that Kat had said once, remembered the turn of Bill’s lips. 

“You suck,” Gary said.

Mr. Screw huffed out a laugh which was wrong. Again. 

“Here's what. Mary’s not too far from here. How about we drop by? Will that make you better?” 

“What? No, I'm supposed to be going to work,” Gary said.

Mr. Screw glanced at his watch and then shoved his wrist out towards Gary’s face. 

“Actually, you're supposed to be talking to Mary now.”

This, for the first time, was not wrong. Gary felt his chest loosen a fraction. 

“Fine,” he told Mr. Screw and frowned in response to the man’s grin.

“But we have to take soup,” Gary said.

His mom had told him that.

“No problem. There's a mini-mart on the way.”

They walked and Gary's stomach grumbled, which was comforting in its familiarity.

They stopped in the mini-mart and Gary picked out a can of soup. He also picked up a box of tea that smelled sweet and sharp. 

Mr. Screw laughed when Gary told him to pay but did so nonetheless.

“That's going on your tab, kid,” he said, which Gary ignored.

They walked some more, the plastic bag crinkling as it brushed against Mr. Screw’s leg. The noise wasn't as annoying as Mr. Screw’s humming. 

“Here it is,” Mr. Screw waved Gary up a driveway.

There was a yellow house with flowers and bird feeders at the front. It was nice and Gary smiled, chest loosening a bit more.

“So you can smile,” Mr. Screw teased, which just made Gary frown again.

They walked up the driveway and Gary hung back as Mr. Screw knocked.

Gary pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders.

There were a few soft noises from inside.  Mr. Screw took a step back to stand in line with Gary.  He jostled Gary's shoulder and Gary shoved him away. 

“Don't do that,” Gary huffed. 

The door clicked and the handle wiggled.

“Sorry, kid,” Mr. Screw said, but he didn't look sorry at all.

“You shouldn't shove people,” Gary told him.

Mr. Screw raised his hands, apologizing, “I said I was sorry.”

But he was still smiling. 

The door opened and Gary turned with Mr. Screw. 

And. 

_Wrong._

“Gary?”

Very, very wrong. 

Maybe. Maybe infrared again. 

“Good morning,” Mr. Screw said, which meant that it wasn't infrared.

Still, wrong. 

“Gary?”

Wrong, wrong, wrong. 

Yet, “Bill?”

**Author's Note:**

> please leave comments!! :)


End file.
